


fishnets and bets

by starrynomin



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternative Universe - Highschool Setting, Confessions, M/M, Nothing explicit, Open Ending, enemies to friends to lovers??, happy birthday jaemin ig, jeno in fishnets, kinda soft, this is just an excuse for me to write jeno in fishnets look away
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:06:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25875589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starrynomin/pseuds/starrynomin
Summary: Jeno and Jaemin, four year rivals, bet on who gets to take the shift in their school booth and somehow along the way, fishnets get involved.
Relationships: Lee Jeno/Na Jaemin
Comments: 3
Kudos: 74





	fishnets and bets

**Author's Note:**

> aha.... hi im back. i did say i'm quitting from writing but i guess that didn't work out either. i won't post much though and i might reupload some works, who knows?
> 
> also if it isn't obvious enough this is an excuse to write jeno in fishnets. it's bad and i just came back so pwease bwe nwice owo

To say that Jeno and Jaemin don't like each other would be a severe understatement. 

The two boys hated each other's guts, loathe, despise, abhor, dread, and all words that are completely synonymous to one another. They spent most of their high school beating each other in competitions, be it on who made the better volcano project or a diorama of a historical place or maybe even a quick race in P.E. Name it and they've probably (definitely) fought over it once or twice. 

In Riverside High, it used to be Jeno this and Jeno that until he had to come along. None of the audience (their friends and literally the rest of their school) remember how their mutual hate had started, but they're guessing it's from Jaemin transferring into Jeno's school, cutting the latter's glory days. It was undeniably petty and immature of Jeno, for him to not take his losses like a big boy and refused to accept it like a sore loser. 

At first, Jaemin didn't mind. A transferee like him that flew from Jeju could only think about adjusting, about fitting in. His mind was set on finding new people and friends he could bond with. So the first few jabs to his ego were indeed painful, but not enough to make him do something about it. 

Whenever Jeno had beat him in something, he'd always hear his smirk and that tiny huff of "keep up" of his. There'd be scoffs of disbelief, rude comments and remarks of how he could do better. 

And then it began.

It was around the middle of October, Halloween Party in Riverside High. The night was young and the air was crisp, nibbling at their horrifying and ditzy costumes. The music was booming through the whole campus and it had smelt like sweat and an unhealthy waft of a fruity-juicy scent. Jaemin, dressed as Kaito Kid, was busy playing apple juice pong (they were first years at the time) and had let out a whoop of excitement. Chuckling, Mark had given him a pat on the back as he downed the drink. Renjun couldn't stop laughing in amusement at his silly victory dances. 

Life was perfect for first year Na Jaemin who had fit in just right at Riverside. The good grades, great friends and even greater apple juice for them to enjoy. But Lee Jeno in his Detective Conan costume and his pompous competitive ass had to ruin everything. He had stepped up, challenged Jaemin into another round of apple pong (with of course stepping on his ego and raising the stakes by betting their Yugioh cards) and the war ensued. 

To 14 year olds, Blue Eyes White Dragon was everything to them and especially to Jaemin. He had to give it up if he lost, but if he didn't, he'll get Jeno's Dark Armed Dragon. There was so much to lose, including their reputations as top students who never got into trouble, the way their classmates had perceived and molded them. 

There was no way that Jaemin was tipsy, not even a little, but he had missed the shot and there was no going back from there. He had said goodbye to his rarest card in his plastic Yugioh binder and said hello to the competition between him and Jeno. A lot of things were lost that could not be brought back, the once high expectations of him by his class, the specific night that should've been stopped by Mark and Donghyuck's pleas, most importantly, his shiny holographic card Blue Eyes White Dragon. He will be missed. 

A couple more competitions and half-assed bets grew from that night, followed by a few, several and to hundreds now. Still counting. Two hours ago, the two were in the middle of an arm wrestling (the 52nd one, Renjun kept count and listed who won in each in a tiny notebook), as the whole class watched in anticipation. 

These kids were in their fourth year, graduating soon towards college but had strict parents and schedule. They're starved for entertainment, mostly because their televisions would be turned off at 9 PM and no gaming pass 12 AM. Luckily, they get top quality enemies-who-have-undying-sexual-tension-but-won't-do-anyting-about-it-because-of-their-pride content 5 days a week in school. Sometimes at Saturdays too to throw parties and they'll vote who did it better. Jeno is currently on the lead with that after unlocking his father's wine cellar and serving it in red cups like they do in movies. Coming of age movies to be exact. 

Jaemin won for the 33rd time and had proved Jeno wrong about his "perfectly sculpted biceps" weren't just for show. Renjun had made a comment about how homoerotic that kinda sounded and how Jeno's "insults" sounded more like compliments recently. Last week, Jeno called Jaemin by the library and said, "Don't read too much or you'll hurt your pretty little head, Na!"

To which Jaemin had replied with a smirk and a, "Bet you'd love that, Lee, so you could finally outdo me in Math."

"Oh, you wanna go?! I'll outdo you anytime, Na! I'll do you right here, right now! I'll do you right on this table if y–!" that was all he could say as Donghyuck dragged him out of the library. 

And wow, holy crap, was that uncomfortable and weird to Renjun who saw the whole thing with Mark. 

Three days ago, their whole class was fitting their green togas for their graduation and Jeno had innocently commented, "Wow, Na, green is a good look on you. Can't wait see it at D-day, if that is, you graduate?"

This time, context is that Jaemin had failed at their English quiz earlier that day. Jeno ate that up faster than a vulture hovering a dry desert. The news got out quickly and Jaemin had received tons of pity, offers of tutoring sessions from the hottest girls in class, including the pretty lady that was being shipped to Jeno, and suddenly, he had an advantage. Renjun then told him off and said it's wrong to use anyone for their own benefit and the plan was called off. Still though, he couldn't forget the scowl that adorned Jeno's annoying face. Truly a moment to remember. 

Nobody had expected their rivalry would last for four years–well, maybe Donghyuck saw it coming it but nobody believed him. They're all 18 year olds now, graduating in a month or two and the issue has yet to be resolved. It's like every time Jaemin had the urge to put his pride down, Jeno would pull something stupid and the spark of their hatred is reignited. 

"This is where I draw the line, Mark," Jaemin had said for the nth time, plodding down the halls with his best friend, books in hand for their upcoming quiz in Biology. "We can't keep doing this forever. I don't want my last year to be filled with hate and Jeno and his shenanigans."

Context is Jeno had put Jaemin's books and pens and everything he left a week ago in school in jello. Unoriginal (he watches The Office too) and messy, that's all Jaemin could think of as he busied himself from pulling his stuff out of disgustingly warm jello. Also, he was plotting his rival's death and how he'd make it look like an accident. 

When Jaemin thought of a way to retaliate instead (dose his tumbler with laxatives and keep all the tissues in campus in jello), Mark had talked to him. Used his godly knowledge about, well, God and bonus, said that Christ had turned the other cheek around. And so should he. 

"That's what I kept telling you!" Mark exasperated out from his side, "Dude, you just gotta play it cool! On the d-low! He'll stop when you don't feed into his schemes. Forgive him and let go."

Renjun on his right nodded along, typically the most reasonable and logical one of the three, "Jeno's like trolls in the internet; the more you pay attention to them, the more they laugh behind their screens and you lose."

Mark nodded, his eyes wide and his cheeks pulled towards his opened mouth, "Exactly!" He glances over at Jaemin again with his finger pointing him, "He's like my niece! My Aunt Bruhilda just ignores her daughter when she's throwing a tantrum and then comes back to talk about it once she's calmed down."

"One, that's terrible parenting. Children need discipline too," Renjun raises a second finger, always so formal with his monotonous tone and swift wit, "Two, I don't see how this works in our situation. Jeno doesn't throw tantrums, he pulls pranks and comes up with the weirdest insults."

Jaemin nodded in agreement, humming, "A man-child. He thinks dogs are boys and cats are girls and that Sex & The City are two different shows."

There's a cock of Renjun's head from surprise, "He's never watched it?"

"Says Sex sounds too 'adult-y' for his liking," Jaemin stifled a laugh, "And that maybe he'll watch The City after finals 'cause it sounds dope."

Mark shook his head, putting them back on track, "What I'm saying is just ignore him and the problem will fix itself!" He spreads his arms with an enthusiastic beam, "Bam! You finish highschool, go to college and become the world's hottest surgeon without worrying about Jeno." 

When Renjun didn't say anything, Jaemin assumed that maybe Mark was right. He's too old to be worrying about Jeno and jello. He can watch Titanic now without covering his eyes at that scene and without hearing his mom scolding him at the back of his head. 

Mark looked pleased at the pause, the silent moment of Jaemin's pondering, and he rushed forward to face him. He curls his fingers in determination, giving him that dose of support and wise words of advice that he needed, "Be like Aunt Bruhilda. Embody her. Get into her mind. Be her."

With that, Jaemin nodded. There's a rush of realization that surges over him like electrical currents, the possibility of new opportunities without Jeno in the picture, without someone rousing contests every second, without someone picking on him like a fungi that just suddenly pops up and just won't die. 

That sounded like the best thing in the entire world. His dream. So he had made the decision to finally, finally, let Jeno go this time. Forgive him for his sins (like Mark had said) and to play the bigger person (like Renjun had said, till the both of them had to go and say that he could never do that). 

"Alright, fine." Jaemin huffed out, mind now clear and vivid. His vision was perfect, almost in his fingertips, he could taste that Jeno-free life in his lips. They reach his locker and faces the two, "I promise, this is it. The end of this war. Nothing could ever change my mind, I swear to you that."

Jaemin smiles at their proud nods and turns to his locker. After the jello incident from earlier morning, he figured he shouldn't leave his stuff on his desk anymore and actually use his locker for once. The lock opens and it gives flood to a wave of regret and sheer boiling anger. And slime. Lots of it. 

Before anyone could say Jack Robinson, Jaemin's drenched in slime from a contraption that was triggered by the pull of a string tied to his locker's door. The floor he stood on was dripped by green icky goo, his whole uniform wet and sticky, dribbling down his skin and seeping into his sheet of patience. 

Renjun;s hand flew to his mouth as Mark tried to calm him down, "Jaemin... I know this looks bad, but we just talked about this."

There's a snicker that resounds, practically echoing through the hall that's filled with murmurs, followed by a manically familiar voice, "Green is a good color on you, Na." Jeno crossed his arms as he strode towards him, the heels of his leather oxford shoes clacking, mocking, " Never doubted myself for a second."

On each of his side were his trusty companions: Lee Donghyuck on his right, his (pretty, Mark and Renjun's word) face graced with a smirk; Park Jisung with Zhong Chenle on his left, both second years who worshipped the imbecile like a god and had the biggest grins anyone has ever seen. At one point Mark was convinced that the four of them were some sort of devils and had once sprayed them with holy water. And maybe he's right.

Because who else spends the time picking the lock of one's locker, build a sophisticated machine to spill slime to its owner and laughs about it without remorse? Devils, or in Riverside High, Lee Jeno and his friends. 

Slowly, soothingly, Mark attempted to calm him down, "Jaemin, chill–"

"I'm gonna kill you." Jaemin bellowed through gritted teeth, anger coursing through his veins that makes him for a stance, ready to chase him down the halls as he screamed, "I'm gonna fuckin' kill you, Lee!"

"Jaemin, no!" Mark cried out, "Aunt Bruhilda! Remember Aunt Bruhilda!"

That was the story how the halls were covered in slime and why Jeno and Jaemin ended up at the principal's office that day. Suddenly the dose his drink with laxatives didn't sound so bad anymore, maybe add in a few dashes of hemlock in his salad if you will. And maybe hell wasn't as bad as Mark had told him it would be. 

After a good and a deafening scolding from the principal–nothing new–the two boys were sent to return home. The slime had dried off and found refuge in Jaemin's white uniform, a dark greenish tint adorning it down to his khaki pants and left remnants on his once shiny shoes. As he skidded through the empty halls, his soles squeaking, he wondered on how to get this gunk off without his mom knowing. Or he could kill Jeno and bathe in his blood as excuse. His ear will still get blown off but it'll be worth it. 

"Here," Jeno grumbled with a click of his tongue. Jaemin's ripped off from his reverie, asking himself when they had stopped in the middle of the hall and in front of Jeno's locker.

The Wicked Witch to his Dorothy, the flimsy rope to his Leslie, the Detective Conan to his Kaito Kid, had just handed him a shirt. A spare, clean shirt. What the world has come to, Jaemin doesn't know, but he didn't have the time to care and reject. Going home drenched in slime would be like a death wish and that's one wish he's not willing to make. Best to take advantage of the situation. 

That's exactly what he does. 

Jaemin snatches the shirt and unbuttons his own, nonchalantly pulling on his tie till its loose enough for him to move in. The slime stuck on his sun-kissed skin like dried glue, clinging onto his body like a leech that had no place else to be, stuck in the right and wrong places down to the shallow depths of his collarbones, to the dips of his lean torso and _oh my gosh Jeno finds himself staring a bit too much._

Jeno catches himself before he could get trapped in the way his arch enemy's muscles fllexed and tensed, sputtering, "What the hell are you doin–"

"Changing?" Jaemin retorted, throwing his dirty shirt towards Jeno, "What else, dimwit?" 

"Why here?!" Jeno exclaimed in utter panic, only finding the time to turn around now, as he feels warmth build up to his cheeks and his knuckles tightening from the moist shirt in hold, "Anywhere but in front of me!"

For some odd reason, Jeno could hear the smirk of Jaemin from behind him, imprinting on the back of his head like a flash of waves and feelings. He scoffs once he hears him say, "Learn to close your eyes if you can't appreciate art."

"Oh, shut up!" Jeno rolled his eyes, face still flushed, "Your muscles aren't even half as good as mine."

There's a confused sound, a hum that starts low and works its way up in a swift noise from Jaemin's throat, deep and amused, "Why compare muscles? If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were checking me out–"

The whole place grows warm, creeping up Jeno's entire being like a wildfire in a forest, consuming him in one go, "As if!"

"We should compare dicks next time."

"Bye." Jeno threw the shirt over his shoulder, letting it fall the floor and he storms off (almost slipping from a puddle of slime to which Jaemin saw and will now cherish the memory forever.)

It's by Friday when another row took place. It unfolds in their classroom, their class president Yeji talking in the middle to discuss about their booth for Foundation Week. They had all settled on a Coffee Booth, knowing full well the power of thirst traps. Money will come flooding in no time and they can tell their pessimist adviser who said otherwise to suck it. 

The fight, more specifically the bet, was sparked when Yeji had asked everyone, "Who's available for the last shift?"

Jeno immediately took the opportunity–for Jaemin. Without even thinking twice, Jeno kicked the seat in front of him, causing Jaemin to stand abruptly from the impact. Followed by a yell, "Na volunteers as tribute!"

"Great!" Yeji chimed, listing his name on her clipboard, "You'll be working at 2 o'clock to–"

"Actually, I have a better way to deal with this." Jaemin interjected in, clearing his throat with a quick one over at the whole class, "Why don't Jeno and I make a bet for it? Whoever loses has to take the shift."

There's a chorus of "ooh's" that drawl like an animal's growl to a challenge, skittering in anticipation and excitement. The tension rises and so do the stakes when Jeno cockily added, "Winner gets to pick the loser's outfit."

Another round of cheers resonate and Jaemin could feel the adrenaline start to kick in. He turns to face Jeno, smirking, "You've got yourself a deal, Lee."

"Here they go again," one muttered out.

"What are they gonna do?" another sarcastically piped up, "Arm wrestle?"

To which Jaemin realizes that the commentators were Renjun and Donghyuck respectively. Figures. 

Jeno peels himself off his chair, placing his hands on his hips with a curled grin, "Damn right we are."

A whisper, "This is getting tiring."

"The next person who says shit can be next," Jeno snapped, "I'll rip your arm off and use it to beat you so shut it."

One minute Jaemin is minding his business and the next is he finds himself in front of the class doing a familiar scene. Arm wrestling with Jeno on the teacher's desk. It's so repetitive and uncreative (again) but it was one of the quickest ways to end arguments and dumb bets. Like this one. 

Their palms touch, rough and soft against one another. Jaemin prompts his elbow against the desk with a sense of familiarity, lost count of the times they've done this, and he grips the edge with his other hand. Jeno does the same and there's a jolt of electricity from the moment their skins pressed, warm and sparkling throughout his system. 

On the signal, their hands ran taut and the more their veins popped out, strings of green, blue and purple adorned their forearms as they pushed and pulled. 

Renjun can't believe how unworldly boring this is, watching with a stoic expression and his notebook in his grasp. Mark beside him shifted in agitation with Donghyuck loudly cheering on Jeno. 

And Jeno, stupid Jeno, made the mistake of letting his eyes flicker over Jaemin's. Their gazes meet and there's a glint of amusement, bold and daring, mirth dancing in his dark orbs like fireflies in a night sky. Even the way his lips curled into a smirk that was so sinister and grim, a mocking tilt of his head to the side and Jeno was gone. 

The mere second his walls were down, Jaemin took the chance and pinned his arm down. An obnoxious chorus of cheers go around and Jeno couldn't believe it. The impact made his arm sting, his palms tingly and jittery from the loss of contact, from the loss of his touch. His hand feels so empty and it's tearing him to pieces. 

"Looks like we've got our waiter for next week," Jaemin gleamed, leaning his hip against the desk, "Hope you can rock a skirt and a pair of fishnets, Lee."

Renjun lists the loss of Jeno on his notebook and as he did, he had also come to the conclusion that these two irk sexual tension and that they should just bone to get on with it. He's pretty sure Donghyuck thinks the same too. Mark? Not so much. 

"Aunt Bruhilda would've been disappointed of you," Mark said with a shake of his head, his arms crossed over his chest, "I told you to ignore him and you go and arm wrestle him to smithereens."

"It was fun while it lasted. Time to draw the line, buddy," Renjun agreed with a pat on Jaemin's back, "We're graduating, it's time to grow up."

And wow these two really know how to take the fun out of Jaemin's victory. 

Either way, Monday rolled around and it was the worst day of Jeno's life to date. Even when he lost in paintball against Jaemin didn't reach this level of misery. Even when Jaemin beat him with one point in their History test. Even when they made a contest on who could eat the most pancakes in one sitting at their Food Club. Yep, this is stupid and making that bet with him was even stupider. 

But this whole outfit's gotta be the stupidest. Jeno anxiously eyed himself on the bathroom's mirror, his lips pulled into a grimace as he fiddled with white ruffles of the sleeves. He takes a heavy gulp, letting it sink into his head that there was no turning back now. 

The door suddenly opens. A random student had barged in, oblivious, and his eyes widen at the sight of the school's most competitive and antagonistic boy in thigh highs, fishnets and a cutesy dress. Jeno growls, "What are you looking at?!"

And he cowers away. Jeno sighs, fixing his satin headpiece and smooths out his skirt. Just before he could take another step to leave, the door opens again and the atmosphere grows heavy. 

Jaemin froze, everything coming to a stop, and he blinks furiously just to make sure he wasn't seeing things. He wasn't and holy crap Jeno can rock a dress. Admiration soars up through the roof and maybe with a mix of something else. He could feel a sensation stir in his stomach, flipping and shaking, building up his throat and warmth towards his cheeks. 

The black silk satin dress had white laces sewed to its hem, over its shoulders and collar. It wrapped around Jeno's tiny waist and formed as an apron. Below it were black fishnets that streaked across his pale skin, as if each line worshipped him with sensuality and vigor. 

The heeled shoes made Jeno taller, the dark thigh highs accentuating more of his legs' slim and toned figure, and if one looked closely enough they could see his skin underneath the inky translucent fabric adorned with tiny patterns. Jaemin did more than simply look, he was flat out staring, ogling, appreciating art like he had once said, especially at the small heart that was cut out to show his chest. 

A lovely tint of pink blossom in Jeno's nape, working its way up his face and ears as he frowned, hoping this would just end already. But Jaemin had other plans. 

"Fishnets do look good on you, Lee," he faux praised, his atrocious smirk plastered across his expression, "Never doubted myself for a second."

Jeno rolled his eyes with a scoff. He'd rather be anywhere but with this prick. Grumbling, he excuses himself and tries to walk past Jaemin, but is stopped with a loose grip to his wrist. 

"Wait, hold up," Jaemin spoke again, tone different and laced with gentleness. Once Jeno had given him his attention, he continues with an awkward fumble of his words, voice low and breathy, "I've been doing some thinking and I think we should put an end to this."

Before Jaemin could take his words back of how ridiculously similar it sounds like a break up line, he swallows his nervousness and goes with it. He lowers his hand, letting go of Jeno's wrist, and lets his eyes meet his to show his sincerity, to show the true calling of his heart, "I'm sorry for whatever I've done to you, if I offended you in anyway."

Jaemin steps closer, whispering, "Tell me and I'll try to make it up to you."

Suddenly the reason seemed so idiotic in Jeno's mind. Lunacy. Insanely stupid. He was jealous of him and around second year, he had grown tired of it. But he was too prideful to put a stop to it and went on. Also because that's the time the whole arm wrestling started and he couldn't say no to it. For classified reasons. 

This also wasn't the scenery Jeno had in mind. He never expected the two of them would reconcile, but if they did, he thought it would be in a more special place. Less toilets and stalls, he assumed. But maybe this will have to do. 

"I'm sorry, too." Jeno's head drops as he fixates his shaky eyes to the ground, biting his glossy lower lip, "I think we should talk about this."

A genuine smile dances across Jaemin's lips, a rush of contentment flowing inside his chest, a promise of a better and more peaceful tomorrow, "Good."

Although still nervous, Jeno fingers the smooth surface of his skirt, shrinking as he confesses something that's been bothering him for so long in a small voice, "I think I should also tell you that arm wrestling might've been an excuse to hold your hand."

Jaemin's eyes widened, "H–wait, what?"

Jeno brushes past him, waving with a small crack in his shy voice, "Later, Jaemin."

Still, Jaemin breathes out, "Later, Jeno?"

When Jaemin turns around, he catches a glimpse of the fishnets behind Jeno's legs, the way the skirt flowed behind him, how the laced hem and the thigh highs rode up with each stride he took. 

Jaemin whispers to himself, "I really hope this doesn't awaken anything in me."

**Author's Note:**

> [ twt ](https://twitter.com/starrynomin)   
>  [ cc ](https://t.co/0MCrJUFs0l?amp=1)


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